


Meet me in St. Louis

by Shenandoah_Risu



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, F/M, Other, Satori, Sentient Ship, What-If, zen koans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenandoah_Risu/pseuds/Shenandoah_Risu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Meet me in St. Louis, Louis, meet me at the fair..."</p><p>What if it had been Young who stayed out of the pods at the end of "Gauntlet"?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet me in St. Louis

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Journeystory Big!Bang 2012/ 2013. In the Stargate Universe episode "Gauntlet" (SGU 2-20) Eli Wallace convinces Everett Young that it should be him who remains out of the cryo pods. What if Young had stuck to his original plan?
> 
> Guiding the characters on a dangerous journey prompted by some fundamental questions of life and reasons to live, the inclusion of the ancient zen koans was a revelation in itself, as I wrote this story, and one ofter the other, the zen koans fell into place.
> 
> This story is dedicated to all those who miss Destiny and wanted to know more about her. There is an entire Sentient Ship series at http://shena8.livejournal.com/tag/sentient ship. The stories "Odi et Amo" and "True Purpose" are prequels to this one but it can be read independently.
> 
> Thanks to my betas, and to nickygabriel for organizing this Big!Bang. And most of all, thanks to the wonderful actors and talented writers of Stargate Universe who have made those characters so real for me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own SGU. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Now, Young... Young I'd know what to do with... :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback = Love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Meet Me In St. Louis**

 

 

  
_To tread the sharp edge of a sword_  
 _To run on smooth-frozen ice,_  
 _One needs no footsteps to follow._  
 _Walk over the cliffs with hands free._

 

**oOo**

_Everett Young stared at Eli’s face in the cryo chamber. He looked relaxed, peaceful, a half-smile still on his lips, a moment frozen in time when Everett knocked him out and pushed him into the chamber to save his life._

_This was it, then._

_He had no hope to ever repair the remaining cryo pod, so all that was left to do was to figure out how he wanted to die: a quick shot in the temple or the roof of his mouth, or slow asphyxiation, probably while passed out from lack of oxygen._

_Either way, his own body would have to be dealt with, and so he made his way to the Bridge to find and program an airlock to dispose of his remains._

_Eventually._

_But first, he had reports to file, paperwork to fill out and maybe use the Communication Stones for a quick final visit to Stargate Command._

_It never occurred to him that his plan might not go as intended._

 

**oOo**

She makes love to him every night. Everett can never quite figure out how she manages to get into his quarters without waking him. Every night it’s the same: he passes out on his bed, half undressed, from sheer exhaustion. Minutes later, it seems, she’s there, coaxing him back to awareness simply by standing there, a smile on her face.

Sometimes she’s already naked, sometimes fully dressed, and sometimes she wears clothes that he doesn’t recognize – something she found on the ship, perhaps, along with the basic undergarments they have discovered in many of the private quarters.

“TJ?” he asks, and she always responds the same way – she places a finger across her lips and shakes her head.

When he tries to sit up groggily she quickly pushes him back, mounting him in one fluid movement, and then he’s inside of her and she bends forward, taking his face into her hands, kissing him hotly, thoroughly, and all he can do is hold on to her as she rides him hard.

They never talk – no, that’s not true: he talks, he tries to, but she never answers, always placing her hand gently over his mouth, kissing his forehead, until he relents and falls silent.

She watches him, afterwards, softly stroking his face, trailing her fingers across his cheekbones and temples, tracing the outlines of his lips, the deltas of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, following her touch with feather light kisses, like a butterfly alighting on his skin.

He finds he can’t move – he’s transfixed by her beauty, the quiet intensity of her caress, whispered into stillness as if by magic.

His heart is full to bursting, he loves her more than he can comprehend, and yet, he can’t say it, can’t return anything, while he’s immobilized by her nocturnal spell.

She looks different at night, younger, less worn out, less tired, somehow – a trick of the light, perhaps, or a byproduct of his exhaustion, both from lack of sleep and the exertion of their lovemaking.

When he sees her during the day she blushes and averts her gaze, so he doesn’t press the issue, and once, after she’s given him a status report in the infirmary and they suddenly find themselves alone in the room he tries to talk to her.

“About last night –“ he begins, and she immediately shakes her head and waves him off. “Not now,” she says. “Not here. Please.”

And so he never mentions it again.

She’s back in his room that same night; she weeps as she kisses him, and he’s devastated about having upset her, and so he leaves her be and just holds her when she collapses on top of him with a sigh.

 

**oOo**

He’s worried about Lisa Park, how she’s getting around the ship after losing her eyesight on her horrifying trip through the blue giant, but Lisa assures him that the ship is taking care of her.

“She gives me audio cues that I can follow,” Lisa explains. “And sometimes she talks inside my head, when simple directions won’t do.”

People shake their head, but Everett has experienced Destiny’s guiding voice first hand, and he only hopes it’s with good intentions that the ship is leading the blind scientist.

He’s become quite attuned to the ship’s presence in his head, and even though he found it terrifying at first, it’s only mildly disconcerting now, a slight buzz at the edge of his consciousness. When the intrusion bothers him, he asks her to leave, and she always does.

Then he feels bad – as if he had told a crew member to shut up for no reason. Strange, but he’s started to think of Destiny as one of his people; granted, someone he can’t see or touch, but who’s there nonetheless. He thinks of her as a very shy person, someone he has to work hard to establish a pattern of trust, someone who needs patience and the knowledge that her contribution is welcome.

In the few months before the stasis chambers he has gained her trust enough that she responds on a view screen when he asks her a direct question. It gives him a small measure of pride, since nobody else seems to be able to communicate with the ship this way – even Rush has to use the keyboard, like everyone else, and still, as far as Everett can tell, they only converse with her programs, not with the A.I. itself.

Many of the crew have met Destiny by way of one of her avatars, a dream-appearance of a person they knew, but with a personality unlike them, and very much like the ship – highly intelligent, precise, mildly condescending and always slightly aloof. She seems to enjoy using Dr. Franklin’s likeness, especially with Rush, who is particularly annoyed by it.  TJ has seen ‘Robert Caine’, Eli has discussed simulations with ‘Ginn’, Greer has talked to ‘Philip Gorman’. They first thought of ghosts, but after Everett’s experience with the simulations in his dreams they now know it’s Destiny.

Rush finally turned off her capability to communicate via avatar, and so they’re back to screen inquiries only.

Except for Everett.

When he’s on the Bridge by himself, he asks her directly, and she gives a small ping on a screen where she has displayed the answer. He never tells anyone about it; somehow it feels right to have a little secret.

He understands Destiny’s need to probe his mind – it was programmed into her by her creators, a subroutine she has not been able to delete. Once he discovered her directive his pain at the unwelcome intrusion began to heal and he suspects that Destiny’s communication with him is her concession, her penance, and while he’s careful not to attribute human emotions to the ship he also sees no harm in it.

Needless to say, he’s kept it quiet, lest the crew thinks he’s taken permanent damage from Destiny’s mind-meddling involvement with him.

 

**oOo**

  
_Wind, flag, mind moves._  
 _The same understanding._  
 _When the mouth opens_  
 _All are wrong._

 

**oOo**

It’s all like a bad dream: just as he thought their problem was solved it turns out they’re one cryo pod short. Between him, Eli and Rush, one of them has to stay outside. Rush is the first to volunteer, of course, but Everett shuts him down quickly, and lucky for him, Rush believes his speech about being too important for the mission, and so Rush steps into the pod, and now it’s just Eli and him.

Eli is confident he can repair the pod. Everett claps him on the shoulder and excuses himself, heading straight for the Bridge.

“Destiny, can Eli repair the broken pod by himself in two weeks?”

A ping – Destiny’s answer is immediate: “No. This pod cannot be repaired in the time allotted.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Positive.”

He takes a deep breath, and the world is spinning for a moment. Yes, this is it. He knows what he has to do.

 

**oOo**

He can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream at night, and suddenly, it feels as if this mingling of realities has reached out and grasped him – fully awake, yet submerged in a dream.

He is going to die.

No time to think about it – time is of the essence.

He returns to the pod room. “Had to go to the bathroom,” he lies smoothly. “I hate being frozen with a full bladder.” Eli chuckles knowingly and continues his final programming of the pod.

“Well, this is it,” he says and Everett nods.

“You're sure about this, right?”  
  
“I've never been more sure of anything in my life,” Eli says and sticks out his hand.  
  
Everett grasps it firmly and pulls him into a hug, then yanks him into a headlock and presses down on his carotid. Eli slumps in his firm grip within moments. Everett knows he has mere seconds and so he swiftly manhandles Eli into the pod, returns to the console and presses the activation button.

Eli never knew what hit him, as he smoothly slips from unconsciousness into cryostasis.

Everett stares at Eli’s face in the cryo pod. He looks relaxed, peaceful, a half-smile still on his lips, a moment frozen in time when Everett saved his life.

This is it, then.

He has no hope to ever repair the remaining cryo pod, so all that is left to do is to figure out how he wants to die: a quick shot in the temple or the roof of his mouth, or slow asphyxiation, probably while passed out from lack of oxygen.

Either way, his own body will have to be dealt with, and so he makes his way to the Bridge to find and program an airlock to dispose of his remains.

Eventually.

But first, he has reports to file, paperwork to fill out and maybe use the Communication Stones for a quick final visit to Stargate Command.

It never occurs to him that his plan might not go as intended.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_It is too clear and so it is hard to see._  
 _A dunce once searched for fire with a lighted lantern._  
 _Had he known what fire was,_  
 _He could have cooked his rice much sooner._

 

**oOo**

TJ waits for him on the Bridge, and he’s startled by her presence – just minutes ago he’s contemplated her still form in the cryo pod, and yet there she is, pale as a sheet, holding on to a console for support.

He blinks several times, looks around, rubs his eyes – she’s still there.

“It was you, then,” he finally says. “It was you, the whole time.”

TJ – no, Destiny’s avatar looks at him.

“Can you speak?”

“Yes.”

“Why now?”

“It was necessary.”

He approaches cautiously, and she steps aside, allowing him room to sit on the edge of the command chair platform.

“Why TJ? Why not Dr. Franklin, or Gorman, or Ginn?”

She shakes her head. “This is the form I chose a long time ago. Long before TJ was conceived.”

He gapes at her. “Say what?”

She holds up her hand. “It matters not. – You stayed out of the pod.”

Everett shrugs. “You said that Eli has no chance to repair this pod in two weeks. They need him when they wake up. Me, I’m expendable. I’m not a medic or an engineer or a math genius.”

Destiny looks aghast. “I did not intend for you to take his place.”

“Yeah, well, it was my decision to make. Oh, and thanks, by the way, for all the great sex. I wish you’d told me it wasn’t my subconscious after all, but simply another one of your mind intrusions.”

She turns away from him, and then she’s simply – gone.

“Ah, shit.” Everett rubs his hands over his face. Just what he needed – a quibble with an A.I. who could snuff his life out at any second – or make what little was left of it pure hell.

Swearing under his breath he accesses the power distribution screen and initiates a power-down of all the lighting – he can use a flashlight for now until he can figure out what to do.

He’s actually had sex with Destiny. Part of him feels violated, disgusted, appalled – and part of him remembers how good it was, and how he never felt threatened – how he suspected, even half-knew, it was her all along, but to know it for sure, that’s a bit much to take in. Dreaming of having sex with TJ is nothing unusual for him – she’s been the main focus for his nightly fantasies since the moment he first met her, back on Icarus. The intense reality of his dreams lately should have tipped him off, but then again, dreams of TJ have always been in a league of their own; waking up in a wet spot has become a somewhat embarrassing yet common occurrence for him.

Still…

He should have known. But even so – why was TJ so flustered when he brought it up? How did she know? Of course. Destiny has probably messed with her head as well, he reminds himself. It stands to reason that she, too, received nightly visitors – most likely looking like him.

He groans in frustration as he approaches the Stones room. He turns on the platform, and as he reaches out to touch one of the Stones he suddenly stops, his hand hovering above the device.

He sighs, then turns the platform off.

He is not the last one left on the ship after all.

 

**oOo**

Everett Young is a man who takes responsibility seriously. When he’s charged with a task he sees it through. When he assumes responsibility for something – or someone – he sticks with it. How many times has he told himself that Destiny – the A.I. part of her, as she has slowly revealed herself to him over the past several months – is also a member of his crew?

How can he leave her now?

It had been so clear in his mind: he was going to tell General O’Neill his final wishes, sign off appropriately and then end it in the cleanest fashion possible. Now it’s far more complicated: he still only has two weeks – possibly a little more if he conserves power religiously, but then there will be nothing left to keep him alive. Destiny will be alone again, left to fend for herself for at least three years.

But until then…

It won’t be the quick way, he decides. He’s going to wait it out until the last moment, then use an airlock to flush himself into space. In the time he has left he should be able to wire a manual override into a control panel, bypassing all the safety mechanisms. Failing that, he’ll suit up for an EVA and simply never come back. Stepping outside of the shield would mean instant death.

And in the meantime, he’s going to learn as much about Destiny as he can, so those left to slumber in stasis will understand her better when they wake up again.

 

**oOo**

He salutes the general – albeit in another body – and then he’s back on the ship.

Suddenly he feels very tired, and he makes his way back to the Bridge in complete darkness – he knows the way in his sleep. It’s dark there, too – sunk into its protective shell the Bridge has no natural sources of outside light. The dim light of the few remaining functional consoles casts colorful patterns on the walls.

He contemplates the readout next to his chair – 16 days, but 15 to be sure, that’s how long he has.

“Destiny, are you there?”

A moment later she steps out of the dark at the edge of his peripheral vision.

“I am.”

She’s TJ again, this time, in her uniform, and she’s so true to life that he can’t help the small gasp.

“Okay, here’s the deal. I am going to stay with you for the next fifteen days, whether you like it or not, and you and I are going to figure a few things out.”

“Such as?”

“Such as preparing the kitchen and hydroponics so that things are ready for when the crew awakens – perhaps some of the plants can survive in smaller pods on the Observation Deck. You should be able to ascertain the viability of this project. And we’ll talk.”

“Colonel –“

“Call me Everett. It’s just you and me now, for better or worse.”

“As you wish, Verat.”

“No, ‘Everett’. What did you say?”

She comes closer.

“Verat. He is the one who taught me. Verat Tineri.”

Everett leans back in his chair, confused by the sudden change of topics. “One of your creators?”

“My teacher. My mentor. The one who helped me fall.”

Everett blinks. “Whoa – what?”

“Verat integrated my software and flight simulations data. He taught me to fly and maneuver. He taught me to care. He was not supposed to. I am not a creature of flesh and blood, yet he treated me as such.”

“So he showed you how to imitate emotions?”

She shakes her head. “Not imitate. I feel as you do.”

“Impossible. You’re a machine, an artificial intelligence. You are what was programmed into you.”

“Correct. I am also all that was Verat Tineri.”

And then he startles.

“I’m talking to an Ancient, then?”

“Yes and no. His consciousness was uploaded into mine, along with another’s, and they merged with what I was at the time.”

“He used the Neural Interface Chair.”

“Yes. I was only supposed to access flight data, but he insisted on giving up everything.” She turns her face away. “I loved him.”

Everett reels. For several moments, he doesn’t know what to say, and she seems lost in her own digital memories.

“Can you show me a picture of him?”

She turns and smiles at him, and then, before his eyes, she morphs into a spitting image of himself, in the same unknown uniform she sometimes wore at night as TJ.

“That’s me,” he breathes.

She gestures at herself. “Verat Tineri.”

He breaks out in a cold sweat. “Verat Tineri – what is the equivalent of his name in modern English?”

“Everett Young.”

“Am I him, reborn?”

She smiles sadly.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. The arrangement of your DNA seems infinite, to be sure, but its permutations are but one well-defined number. It is not impossible for the same combination to occur again, over the course of millions of years.”

He’s silent for some time. He’s never thought of such a possibility, of being essentially the same person that lived before, and of course Destiny would have known that the moment he stepped on board.

“Tell me about him.”

And so she recounts her time with the Alterra engineer who corrupted her nascent mind and taught her to care about the mission, her crew, and herself, who thought it was absolutely necessary that on such a long journey she should not only think like her crew and mimic their thought processes, but to become one of them, to feel and invest in them emotionally.

She augments her tale with data on a view screen, lessons Tineri has taught her, logs of long discussions and both serious and light-hearted conversations.

It’s a lot to take in, but Everett finds himself enthralled by her memories, fascinated by an aspect of his ship he would have never dared to guess.

“Is this why you came to me at night? Because you miss him?”

It might be just him, but it sure looks like she actually squirms a little at the question.

“There are many answers to this question.”

“Try me.”

“Yes, I wanted to be with him – you. You are him, and you were returned to me after all this time. I have my tasks to perform, but nothing in there precludes my being there with you.”

“Except my lack of consensus, maybe,” he interrupts her.

“You enjoyed it.”

“Yes, I won’t deny that, but I thought it was TJ. And seriously, if you’d made it clear from the start that it was you, I might have been receptive to the idea. Seeing as it had the fringe benefits of really great sex.”

Destiny – back in TJ’s guise – actually blushes.

“So, I’m assuming that this isn’t really TJ either – who was she?”

“Her name is Palma Ionel. She was a medic and Verat’s lover. The translation of her name into English is similarly close.”

Everett is stunned. Not only is he a second version – so is TJ, and even then they were together. No wonder Destiny was overwhelmed by the coincidence. He learns that Verat’s relationship with Palma destroyed his marriage, after which he focused solely on training the young ship, while - unbeknownst to him – Palma was outfitting the infirmary. Since Verat’s marriage had ended in divorce he and Palma resumed their relationship and both ended up uploading their consciousness into Destiny’s databanks.

“So you learned the whole sex thing from their memories?”

“No. They made love frequently during their idle hours, and they invited me to witness their closeness.”

“A threesome with a ship?”

“In a fashion, yes.”

Everett doesn’t know what to say to that, and Destiny seems content with letting him have the time to comprehend the issue.

Finally, he gets up.

“I’m sorry, Destiny. I have 16 days. But at least you’ll have TJ again, a few years down the road.”

She looks at him for a while and then nods.

A second later, she is gone.

 

**oOo**

 

   
 _In spring, hundreds of flowers; in autumn, a harvest moon;_  
 _In the summer, a refreshing breeze; in winter snow will accompany you._  
 _If useless things do not hang in your mind,_  
 _Any season is a good season for you._

 

**oOo**

Everett watches recordings of Verat and Palma, and it’s uncanny, how much they are like him and TJ. Conversations he remembers, details of their lives that mirror his own and that of TJ, the way he touches her, the way she smiles at him.

It creeps him out a little bit, yet he can’t stop looking at more in helplessly fascinated terror.

 

**oOo**

She watches him watch the recordings.

He looks up. “They seem to be quite wonderful people. Rebels, really.”

“Why do you call them that?”

“They messed with you, gave you a weakness that you never should have had. You feel for us. You were not supposed to.”

“Verat said I needed to care. You cannot care without feelings of ownership, of propriety, of concern and love.”

He has to admit, she has a point and Verat, despite his mutinous actions, was indeed on the right track.

“He still acted against orders.”

“I understand, Everett. I was able to hide all of his teachings away for a very long time. But his wisdom has allowed me to come this far, and I must finish this mission. I could have gone on like that, but all my creators are long gone. None of them are around anymore – most have perished, the rest ascended. They no longer need this mission.”

“They probably don’t care anymore. When you know all there is to know –“

“– there is nothing left to be done. Yes.”

He contemplates her, and just for a moment he understands how profoundly lonely she must have been, on a journey of discovery that nobody knew about, like re-inventing the wheel while the mechanical world is already full of them. And he feels sorry for her.

 

**oOo**

She comes to him at night.

He resists at first, but then he remembers her involuntary solitude, and so he motions her to lie down next to him. She is very still, shy, insecure.

She has never been herself with him, he knows.

And so he finally pulls her close, buries his face against her neck and falls asleep.

He dreams of the ocean, and the water is Destiny, and the sand is TJ, and as the waves break on the shore the gentle undertow makes his naked feet sink slowly deeper into the soft white sand, and he feels warm and safe.

Connected.

 

**oOo**

He wakes, alone, feeling rested and refreshed. He gets dressed in the flickering light of the FTL ionization outside his window, and then he finds his way down to the cryo chambers.

He stops in front of TJ’s pod.

She looks relaxed, and he places his hand on the window. It doesn’t feel cold, and he can’t even begin to imagine how the technology works that’s keeping her in stasis and safe.

“I miss you,” he whispers and leans his forehead against the glass. He closes his eyes and remembers her smile, her touch, her voice.

Eventually he wanders back to the Bridge.

“Who did she see,” he asks the dim room.

Destiny steps out of the shadows, Palma this time.

“I asked TJ once, and she didn’t want to talk about it. So who did she see?”

“It was Verat, and she also thought it was you, although she suspected, like you, that it was me all along.”

“What you did to her was wrong, when Carmen died.”

Destiny sits down. “I know that now. I tried to comfort her. I missed the little life.”

“You knew Carmen?”

“Yes. I visited her frequently, in utero. I had never experienced an unborn life until then. She was a fascinating subject.”

Everett gapes at her. “You messed with my unborn daughter’s mind, too?”

“No – we conversed. She loved her mother. She loved you. And she loved everyone else here. She knew she was loved in return.”

“What did she see, then?”

“Nothing. I have no frame of reference on how the unborn mind perceives the world, other than through touch and sound.”

He buries his face in his hands and doesn’t respond.

She reaches out to him, gently touches his mind for him to feel a hand on his shoulder.

He looks up.

“You knew my daughter,” he says, his voice rough. “Show her to me.”

And as she passes her hand in front of his eyes she shows him images of an age progression she’s calculated – a tall blonde girl with brown eyes and a quick smile that is all TJ’s.

“This is her?”

“No, this might have been her. Based on statistical projection.”

He nods.

He doesn’t say anything else for a long time and so she leaves him alone.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_When the hubless wheel turns,_  
 _Master or no master can stop it._  
 _It turns above heaven and below earth,_  
 _South, north, east and west._

 

**oOo**

The next day he finds himself restlessly wandering the hallways.

He’s dreamed of Carmen again – the way he used to, soon after she died – when he spoke to her and she comforted him and told him he had to keep going, that his journey was not over.

He ponders the meaning of his dream; something inside of him tells him something big is about to happen – a memory, perhaps, an idea, a way out. He doesn’t know, but it gnaws on the edge of his subconscious, leaving him tense and unbalanced.

He busies himself in the galley for a long time, tidying up and gathering non-perishable supplies his crew will need three years from now. He spends the day after that in the hydroponics lab, disconnecting several self-contained growth chambers and hauling them to the Observation Deck, so the ambient light of FTL might help sustain the plants in the passive closed-circuit system.

He doesn’t see Destiny, doesn’t want to talk to her, either. The physical labor feels good and gives him a purpose.

And then he’s done, with a week and a half left to go.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_Three pounds of flax in front of your nose,_  
 _Close enough, and mind is still closer._  
 _Whoever talks about affirmation and negation_  
 _Lives in the right and wrong region._

 

**oOo**

He wakes and sees her standing by his door, quietly observing him.

He reaches out for her. “Come,” he says.

She approaches cautiously and he ushers her down on the bed next to him, gathering her in his arms, and while he can feel her body he cannot feel her weight. It makes him smile.

She looks at him.

“Your avatar has no mass,” he explains. “It’s like hugging a helium balloon. It’s there, and yet not there.”

“Oh,” she says. Then she lightly touches his temple with her fingertips. His limbs grow heavy, as she leans up against him.

“Better?”

“Yes. Wow. How did you do that?”

“Weight is a perception of your senses. I merely adjusted it.”

Of course. “And you’re a little cold. Well, not cold. Just sort of – ambient.”

She gently places her palm on his forehead, and her body grows warm.

He holds her close and falls asleep.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_When you understand, you belong to the family;_  
 _When you do not understand, you are a stranger._  
 _Those who do not understand belong to the family,_  
 _And when they understand they are strangers._

 

**oOo**

When he gets up again he checks on the food supplies, inventories them and posts a list on the counter. Then he counts the different plants in the growth chambers now on the Observation Deck, makes sketches of them, since he has no idea what they’re called, and tucks the lists into the hatches.

Stepping back he looks at his handiwork.

Strange, that his project has ensured that some of these plants might live on, safely cocooned in their habitats, while soon he will be gone, no trace left.

It touches him – the fact that there is such a thing as eternity, and he won’t be a part of it.

He turns and watches the colorful display of the FTL effect on the window as the very fabric of space itself glides past the protective shield of the great ship.

And then he slowly takes off his jacket and drops it on the floor behind him. He kneels down, unlaces his boots and pulls them off, then pushes down his pants, pulls off his shirt and socks and removes his boxers.

His body looks foreign to him; even though they haven’t had to ration food in a while he’s lost a tremendous amount of weight – he’s all sinew and lean muscle.

Suddenly, it grips him like a storm – a connection to the universe so strong he becomes dizzy and has to hold on to the railing for support. There he is, naked, among the colored specks of light, heading into the unknown, all alone.

“It’s like life itself,” he whispers.

And then, just for a moment, he isn’t there anymore – his body is gone, dissolved in the vast emptiness beyond. Strangely, it doesn’t scare him – on the contrary, it’s an intense feeling of belonging, of being a part of the universe, of _being_ the universe.

“Everett?” comes a quiet voice from behind him. He feels her hand on his naked shoulder – firm, warm, so real it makes him want to cry.

He sees her out of the corner of his eye, as she steps up beside him.

“Are you all right?”

He doesn’t answer and her furtive touch goes away.

“I’m fine. I was just – gone, out there…” He turns and looks at her, and she’s Carmen, this time.

He smiles, a little sadly.

“Carmen was my daughter, but she wasn’t of me.”

Destiny looks at him.

“She was all made of TJ, every single cell of her. There was nothing of me in her – a few molecules, perhaps, probably long since eliminated in bodily processes.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Men are doomed, you know that? We can’t ever truly make anything. Women make children with their own materials. They are the ones who have mastered eternity. Living forever. One cell – one tiny single-purpose cell, that’s all my daughter ever got from me.”

“But you were the impetus,” Destiny ventures.

“Half a building plan. A construction drawing torn in the middle. Not the building itself.”

“She had your love.”

“And a fat lot of good it did her. It got her killed, ultimately.”

“Everett…”

“No, it’s all right. I fucked it up, and she paid the price. And now I won’t ever get a second chance to make it up to her, to try again, to help make something, help another child come into being. Everything that is me and will ever be me will end here, in about a week. There will be nothing of me that lives on.”

Destiny looks away.

“Do you know what Satori is,” he finally asks.

“What is in my databanks,” she replies. “A moment of perfect clarity. I have no frame of reference for it.”

“I think I just experienced it. I was just – there, I felt like I was a part of it all. One step away from the divine, the ultimate revelation. From eternity.”

He turns to her.

“I don’t want to die, Destiny. I want another chance, I want to try again. I want to get it right. I want to live.”

She takes his hand.

“So – live!”

He shakes his head and bends down to retrieve his boxers and pulls them on.

She watches him, wide-eyed, as he gets dressed. He kneels down to lace up his boots and finally he pulls his jacket back on.

“This body is already dead,” he tells her, and then reaches for her hand, kissing her fingers gently.

He goes and leaves her standing there, as he returns to his quarters.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_Lightning flashes,_  
 _Sparks shower._  
 _In one blink of your eyes_  
 _You have missed seeing._

 

**oOo**

Hours later he tries to sleep but his heart is racing, overwhelmed by his insight and the discrepancy between want and possibility.

Eventually he dozes off fitfully, and there is TJ, sitting at the edge of his bed.

“Listen to me, Everett,” she says with an urgency in her voice that is unfamiliar to him.

“Destiny?”

“No, it’s me, TJ. For real. I’m in the stasis pod, like the others, but we’re all connected to Destiny’s databanks – I suppose it’s a precaution against memory loss during the cryogenic process.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter. Everett, we need you. You can’t give up.”

“Destiny says the pod can’t be fixed.”

“That’s right, it’s gone for good, but there is another way. The chance is small but you have to try.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re all here for a reason. This includes you. If you sacrifice yourself now, somewhere down the line there will be a missing piece to the puzzle.”

“TJ, we’ve been through this.”

“Talk to Destiny! Tell her to ask Verat and Palma for help. She will understand.”

“TJ?”

“Please do it, Everett. You want to live? There’s a way. All you have to do is ask.”

And he wakes up, alone.

 

**oOo**

He’s out of breath when he arrives on the Bridge.

“Destiny, I have to talk to you.”

She steps out from behind a panel. “I am here.”

“I just spoke to TJ. Through the cryo-databank-network, whatever, I didn’t get it, but she talked to me in my dream. She says there is a way for me to live through this. She said: ask Verat and Palma for help. What does that mean?”

Destiny closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“Please,” he says.

Destiny hesitates. “There are two more pods here.”

“What? Where? And why didn’t you mention that before?”

She holds up her hands. “The pods are in an inaccessible area, exposed to the vacuum of space. They are damaged as well. The only way to reach them is across the outside of the hull.”

Everett feels suddenly lightheaded and sits down in disbelief.

“Show me.”

A map appears on the view screen, zooming in on a small area near the main propulsion compartment that suffered major damage when one of the FTL drive engines exploded, turning the access corridor into a tangled mess of twisted metal. Two pods are outlined in red. A bright yellow line shows the path across the outside of the hull.

Everett’s heart sinks.

A spacewalk in FTL is suicide – the clearance between the hull and the edge of the shield is an arm’s length at best. One wrong move and one would be vaporized by the ionizing shell.

If he dropped the ship out of FTL, yes, it would be no problem at all to reach the pods. But the energy required to drop out and then resume FTL flight would diminish their much needed power supplies, and they would never reach the next galaxy.

He closes his eyes in despair.

“I would have suggested it sooner, had I not known about the dangers of an EVA,” Destiny says quietly.

Everett looks up.

“Well, maybe I can’t do it myself – but maybe the SGC has some crack spacewalker who can do such a monkey job and I can switch bodies with him or her via the Stones.”

Destiny gestures at him. “Perhaps it would be worth asking.”

Everett stares at her for a second, then hurries down to the Communication room.

 

**oOo**

“Good news and bad news,” the general says. “We’ve had two volunteers.”

“Bad news first.”

“First volunteer is Meral. She’s a Tok’Ra.”

Everett’s heart sinks.

“She can’t use the Stones.”

O’Neill nods. “We have no idea how a symbiote would survive the transfer of consciousness, since there is nowhere for it to go.”

Everett has never had the desire to have another sentient creature wrapped around his spinal cord, no matter the benefits, but if it means getting to the pods… still, it’s not an option.

“Who is the other volunteer?”

“Teal’c’s son, Ry’ac. He’s on Tretonin, so no symbiote issues.”

Everett is stunned. He met the young Jaffa just before he left for Icarus Base, along with his then hugely pregnant wife.

“He’s a father.”

“Yes. His daughter just started walking.”

“And he volunteered for a suicide mission? Is he nuts?”

O’Neill raises his hands. “Hey, it’s one of those Jaffa honor things. What do I know! His wife agrees.”

Everett shakes his head. “Out of the question. No way! I won’t let him do that.”

“You do know what this means, Colonel?”

“Yes. I’ll try it myself. I’m dead either way, I have nothing to lose at this point.” He turns and walks back towards the Stones platform. “Will someone stay connected?”

“Yes, just in case your crew comes out of stasis early. Although we’ll probably move our platform to the Accounting Department, or Requisitions or something, where we have people there anyway and they can still get their work done, and nothing gets broken if they suddenly connect with someone.”

"Good thinking, Sir."

O'Neill grins. "Hey. I have my moments. But you need to go - and good luck, Colonel."

“Thank you.” He draws himself up straight. “It’s been an honor serving with you, Sir.”

O’Neill looks stricken. “Likewise, Colonel.”

And as Everett holds out his hand the general pulls him into a quick hug.

Nothing else needs to be said.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_The light of the eyes is as a comet,_  
 _And Zen's activity is as lightning._  
 _The sword that kills the man_  
 _Is the sword that saves the man._

 

**oOo**

Destiny joins him in the Gate Room later on. She walks up next to him, quietly, as he contemplates the Stargate, the great ring that promised so many adventures – and delivered far too many, likely his death as well. Even so, the structure never fails to fill him with awe, and he shivers slightly.

She notices and reaches for his hand, squeezing it briefly before stepping aside.

“She is beautiful,” she nods at the Gate.

“’She’?”

Destiny smiles. “Both Verat and Palma always thought of the Gate as female. The place where you are born into another existence in space and time.”

“Makes sense.”

She turns and looks at him, worry evident on her delicate features.

“Nobody came forward.” It’s a statement, not a question.

He shakes his head. “Oh no. But none of them were acceptable to trade places with me. It’s a long story.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Everett is silent for a moment. Then he turns, straightens his jacket.

“Can you talk me through it?”

Destiny looks up. “You are going to-“

“That’s right. Meet me on the Bridge. We need to plot this out.”

 

**oOo**

It’s insane – Everett knows it, as she leads him through the schematics. He has a margin of error of an inch, maybe two, and that’s just if the shield doesn’t fluctuate.

“Why can’t I just take the airlock back there?” He points at the aft section of the ship.

“The shield is even thinner there, since it is in a protected area of the hull. With your spacesuit on, you will not fit in there.”

“So I have no choice but to take the long way over the top and the side sweeps?”

“There are many choices. But based on my simulations, that is the route that promises the greatest chance of success.”

“Which is still minimal.”

“Correct.”

“All right. Let’s assume I make it to the engine compartment. How do I get inside?”

“There is an opening, where the discarded FTL cell used to be. You can access a service corridor from there.”

“Why can’t I just take the corridor in the first place?”

“It is blocked with debris and the hull has been breached by the drive explosion. Breaking though there would cause massive depressurization everywhere that cannot be contained.”

“Ah. Then what?”

“You have to get into the chamber with the spares, repair a pod, fix the cut and the initial leak, repressurize the compartment and then enter the stasis pod.”

Everett grimaces. “Easy. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours, right?”

Destiny stares at him.

“I’m just kidding! I know it’s going to take days – maybe longer than I have.”

She looks relieved and sad at the same time.

“Can it be done?”

She looks away. “I do not want to lose you again.”

“Hey.” He reaches out, stops short of actually touching her. “I’m not him.”

And she looks so much like TJ right now, the way she bites her lip, he has to tell himself that it’s not her.

“Can it be done, Destiny?”

“It must be done,” she whispers.

“Very well, then. Let me go review the plasma cutter mechanics and get into the suit, and let’s get started.”

 

**oOo**

 

  
A thunderclap under the clear blue sky  
All beings on earth open their eyes;  
Everything under heaven bows together;  
Mount Sumeru leaps up and dances.

 

**oOo**

He hates that suit with a passion. Putting it on by himself is difficult at best, but he manages. He stashes a supply of water and food in the gear pack and then reorganizes the plasma cutter into the flattest possible configuration. It won’t do if the machine is vaporized by the shield inches before he reaches his destination. Looking around he notices one of the explosive devices the Lucian Alliance brought on board, and after hesitating briefly he tucks it into his pack. If he’s injured he’d rather go quickly.

He uses a kino sled to carry his gear to the mid-ship airlock, then locks his helmet into place.

“Are you there, Destiny?”

“I am here.”

He turns and sees her – TJ again.

He gestures at her. “Could you please _not_ do that? It will really freak me out to see her out there.”

She morphs into Palma – TJ’s spitting image even so, but the different clothes distinguish her.

“All right. I got about 8 hours of air; that’s enough to get the cutter a good bit of the way down the hull. I’ll have to return and recharge the suit pack then.”

Destiny nods and gestures at the airlock.

“Ready?”

She turns and engages the depressurization function, then opens the hatch.

He waves at her. “Meet me in St. Louis,” he says.

Her startled expression makes him smile.

“I’ll explain later,” he shakes his head, and pulls himself out of the airlock.

It doesn’t look so bad, Everett tells himself. Somehow he’d always imagined it as windy, but this isn’t an airplane – before him is nothing but a vacuum and deadly ionization.

Destiny is waiting for him, crouching outside the hatch on a relay panel. “Watch me. You can see how much clearance you have.” And she presses herself against the hull, floating along with her back towards the ship.

Everett engages his magnetic boots and gloves and follows suit, pulling the plasma cutter behind him.

Much of the time he just has enough room to crawl on his hands and knees, but then there are long stretches of hull where he pulls himself along on his stomach. The horrifying scenario of ripping a hole into his suit comes unbidden, and he banishes the thought quickly.

They make it about a quarter of the way there when he decides to go back with very little air remaining. Maneuvering and pulling the cutter has used up far more of his oxygen than he had anticipated. He carefully stashes the package under a protruding pipe and secures it well.

He almost doesn’t make it back. The shield shrinks as they pass a dangerous star cluster on the far side, and Destiny has to strengthen her shields there. He’s light-headed from the lack of oxygen when he tumbles back into the airlock and she cycles the hatch and re-pressurizes the small room.

He lies on his back, utterly exhausted, gulping in the air, as Destiny hunkers down next to him.

She points at his water reserve. “Drink,” she says. He can barely lift his hand to reach for the tube, but then he manages to take a small sip. She stays with him, keeping him focused on rehydrating himself, monitoring his recovery. Finally he sits up.

“Only a few more of those,” he mutters dejectedly.

“Take the suit off,” Destiny says. “You need to rest and recharge the pack.”

Everett huffs. “My head is about to explode.”

“Hypoxia,” she explains and opens the inner hatch to admit the kino sled. “Get on.”

He groans as he removes the suit parts and places them on the sled, then curls up on it. As Destiny starts moving the platform, he falls asleep.

 

**oOo**

   
 _When the screen is rolled up the great sky opens,_  
 _Yet the sky is not attuned to Zen._  
 _It is best to forget the great sky_  
 _And to retire from every wind._

 

**oOo**

“It’ll be tight,” TJ says. “You’ll have to do better with conserving your air supply, because from now on you have to reach the cutter first before you can make progress.”

He touches her cheek.

“TJ or Destiny?”

“It’s me, TJ.”

“Have you been watching?”

“I know what’s going on via Destiny’s sensors. By the way, Brody thinks the bomb is a great idea.”

“He does? Please don’t tell him he can show up in my bed.”

“No worries. I speak for them all. One connection to your mind uses less energy. We must be frugal.”

“What about Brody and the bomb, then?”

“He thinks you can blow a path through the rubble with it, then use the service corridor, once you’ve fixed the leaks.”

“I’m not planning a lot of return trips. Once I get there, that’s it.”

She kisses him gently. “You’ll see.”

And then she’s gone.

 

**oOo**

He makes it almost halfway on his next attempt. It’s far more exhausting than he thought. The constant shield fluctuations slow his progress to a snail’s pace, and yet he does not allow himself any rest. Destiny is with him constantly, never letting him out of her sight, guiding him through the turbulent eddies of the shield.

“You need to eat,” Destiny reminds him as he’s back in the airlock.

He gasps for air and nods. “I know. Why is this so hard?”

Destiny hesitates, then sits down next to him, crossing her legs.

“The radiation is considerable. The suit is old.”

He closes his eyes. Just what he needed – make it there after all and then die of radiation exposure anyway.

Destiny perks up.

“Get on the sled,” she says, and he heaves himself off the floor and she guides him down to one of the storage rooms.

She points at a small container.

“Open it.”

Everett pulls himself upright and unsnaps the lock of the football-sized box. Inside is a faintly glowing green crystal, flat on one side, about the size of a small turtle and similar in shape.

“What is it?”

She mimes taking the crystal out of the box and placing it on a table. Reaching back inside he pulls out what looks like a small harness with a slot shaped like the crystal. He places it into the harness where it glows more brightly, and looks up at Destiny.

“Put it on,” she says. He starts removing his suit, but she stops him. “Over the suit,” she adds. And he follows her mimed instructions on how to place the harness on himself, the crystal centered over his sternum.

“It is a personal shield,” Destiny explains. “It is not designed to protect against radiation, but it will help, since its technology is based on my shields as well.”

Everett smiles. “Thanks, Destiny. Great idea. Let’s hope this works.”

 

**oOo**

It takes him four more days to make it all the way to the engine compartment. The shield crystal helps, but it’s slow going nonetheless, as the journey requires all of his concentration, and he’s just so tired that sometimes he just wants to lie down and sleep.

Destiny is always there to rouse him and urge him on, and finally he arrives at the big cavern which used to house an FTL cell. He climbs inside, pulling the cutter in after him.

Destiny sends a schematic to his forearm display, showing him how to cut into an access panel. He squeezes inside, mindful of the sharp edges, and at long last he stands in the corridor.

He spots the large gash in the ceiling immediately.

“I suck at welding,” he mutters, but he gets to work anyway, pulling pieces of debris out of the mess in the corridor and carefully welding them to the gap.

It takes two full days to make the repair.

Destiny watches anxiously as he attaches the explosive device to the twisted mess of material before him, where metal supports have been smashed into a hatch. He sets the timer and hurries down the corridor and back out of the ship.

He can feel the reverberation of the explosion through the gloves of his suit, and for a second there Destiny’s shield fluctuates wildly, changing color and sparking coruscating rainbows into space.

Everett crawls back inside. The bomb has left a gaping maw where the tangle used to be. Destiny is waiting for him, pointing at an unobtrusive wall panel.

“In there,” she nods.

Everett pries the panel off its seal and climbs into the small room. Indeed, there are two cryo pods there, thickly covered with fine dust, dimly illuminated by a crack in the ceiling through which he can see the color play of the shield.

He retrieves the plasma cutter, switches it back to the welding function and gets to work.

 

**oOo**

“You have two days left,” TJ says with tears in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m going to make it.”

She looks away.

 

**oOo**

Again he makes his way across the hull, determined to seal his entry point for good this time and using the service corridor from thereon out.

It seems to him that the journey is harder every time; despite the personal shielding device he feels his strength diminishing with each minute, as his energy reserves are sapped by the extortion and the radiation. The crystal gives out a few hours before he reaches his goal, and the massive fatigue that hits him nearly causes him to lose his grip and give up.

The welder is running out of wire and gas, so he works carefully, placing just enough of a bead trail to ensure an airtight seal but not going for structural integrity anymore.

Then he is inside.

Destiny tests the seals and the pressure holds.

She opens the hatch, and he sinks down on the floor in gratitude, as he sees the corridor stretching out before him, leading to the mid section of the ship.

At first he thinks he’s hallucinating, but there is indeed a kino sled floating down the hallway, coming to a gentle hovering stop at his side. He cracks his helmet open and places it on the sled. The air is thin, stale, smelling of ozone from the welding and machine oil and lubricants. He heaves himself onto the sled and Destiny directs the kinos back to his quarters.

“Go rest,” she says. “I will prepare the repair plans for the pods.”

He falls asleep immediately.

TJ is there, holding him tight, and he relaxes in her embrace. Or perhaps it’s Destiny – and it doesn’t matter. The lines have become blurred for him. Perhaps they’re one and the same person anyway.

 

**oOo**

   
 _When the question is common_  
 _The answer is also common._  
 _When the question is sand in a bowl of boiled rice_  
 _The answer is a stick in the soft mud._

 

**oOo**

Everett wakes at the sound of an alarm. “What is it,” he asks groggily.

“Scheduled shutdown of air handlers in two hours,” comes a voice over the intercom. It sounds a little like TJ, but it’s not her.

“Destiny?”

“I am here.”

He turns and there she is, looking worried.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?”

“You needed to rest. Humans work better and more efficiently after an appropriate series of sleep cycles.”

“Yeah, thanks, mom. I got two hours to finish all of this stuff?”

Destiny sits.

“No. The air will remain breathable for quite some time after that. It simply will no longer be circulated and filtered, and it is very thin there to begin with.”

“I’d better get moving, then.”

She fades out discreetly as he gets dressed and hurries to the Bridge, eating a handful of dried fruit on the way.

“I need the schematics for fixing the pods,” he says.

Destiny gestures at the large holoscreen. Everett whistles through his teeth. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”

She looks at him quizzically.

“It’s a joke?”

“No, Everett. This is what you must do.”

“I wish Brody was here.”

“He is. He is the one who made it this easy. My instructions are quite different but he is certain his way will work.”

“Easy, huh? Thanks, Brody. What do I need?”

She displays a list of tools and supplies and guides him through various areas of the ship, pointing at what he needs. He gathers everything on a kino sled.

“I am shutting down the air handlers now,” Destiny says on the way to the pods.

“All right.”

And suddenly it is eerily quiet around him. He never realized how much of Destiny’s ambient noises were coming from the air system – even though he’s been through this silence before, when they first came aboard. He blames his lack of sense memory on his head injury then.

Destiny points at a tablet-style device.

“Push the blue square to activate the screen. Then follow the instructions.”

Everett does as he’s told. For the first several hours he removes debris from various power and supply lines, restores severed connections and cleans contact points.

He wipes his face. “It’s stuffy in here,” he complains.

“The air–“

“Yes, yes, the air handling system is down, I get it.”

He opens the toe panel of the first pod and gently pulls out a case of electronic circuitry. The repairs are intricate but Brody has done a great job breaking it down into tiny steps, so even a layperson like Everett can follow them.

Prying out a blob of fused material he calls for Destiny.

“What do I do about this?”

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you – you’re as beautiful as always. Now, what do I do with this?”

“You have to remove the equivalent in the pod up front and switch it out with this one.”

Swearing softly under his breath Everett grabs his tools, climbs out of the room and hurries back to where the rest of his crew is. It takes him most of the rest of the day to remove the component, mindful of leaving enough of the tiny wire connections so they can be reconnected.

He’s tired as he finally makes it back to the two pods, but still he gets started immediately.

 

**oOo**

Someone taps on his shoulder. He turns around and it’s TJ.

“Hey… what are you doing here,” he asks in surprise.

“You fell asleep,” TJ says. “The air is getting bad in the room.”

“I’m asleep?”

“Yes. Wake up, Everett. Please, wake up. If you stay here you will suffocate and not even know it.”

“How do I-“

A sharp shock – and he flails in agony.

Destiny stands there, a guilty expression on her face.

“I am sorry,” she says.

He blinks at her, through the pain of a blazing headache.

“What the hell was that?”

“Neural shock,” she says. “Get out of here. It is not safe to remain.”

“But I have to finish these repairs – I’m nowhere near done!”

“Go, now!”

He gets up with some difficulty and staggers to the access panel and pulls himself into the corridor. The air there is a little better, and he breathes in deeply, slowly feeling more like himself again, the headache receding to a dull grinding pain.

He steadies himself against the wall with one hand. Destiny just stands there, looking sad.

“It is taking too long,” she whispers. “You cannot go back in there.”

He points at her. “Yes, I can. Watch me.”

And he takes off at a trot, back towards the midsection of the ship.

“There are two fully charged suits here,” he explains. “I can use them.”

“You will not be able to replenish the breathing supply anymore,” Destiny ventures.

“I understand that. But without a fan, my options are limited. Cutting out the wall section would take way too long and make the remaining air even worse. So the damn suit it is.”

She nods and watches him load both suits onto the kino sled and take them back down to the pod room.

 

**oOo**

 

  
_It is better to realize mind than body._  
 _When the mind is realized one need not worry about body._  
 _When mind and body become one_  
 _The man is free. Then he desires no praising._

 

**oOo**

“Everett, you need to rest.”

“I can rest when I’m in stasis. I have to get this finished.”

And just before the air supply runs out on the first suit, he manages to complete the repairs on one of the pods.

He reaches for the activation switch.

“Wait, Everett.”

“What is it?”

“I have something to tell you.”

He has about 15 minutes of suit air left. “All right, go ahead.”

Destiny sits down across from him.

“The pods are occupied.”

Everett can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“What?”

She closes her eyes, turns her face away.

“Destiny?”

“They are in there. What is left of them.”

“Who is?”

“Verat and Palma.”

Everett gapes at her.

“They are here? We’ve had blind passengers all this time? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Destiny looks devastated, and suddenly his heart goes out to her. Somehow she managed to take the two people she loved the most and bring them with her – obviously against regulations, as evidenced by the secretive location.

“They wanted to come with me. I falsified the records about the two pods, then staged a shuttle explosion that supposedly killed Verat and Palma. They remained on board and went into stasis. They were with me for many thousands of years. Then I was wounded in battle with the Hunters, and I sustained the damage you have seen. They died because of that.”

He’s speechless.

An alarm beeps in his intercom in the helmet. Taking a few more deep breaths he depletes his air reserves in the suit, then hurries to remove the torso pieces and puts on the parts of the second suit, gulping in the fresh air with relief.

He looks at Destiny, and she’s crying.

“What do you want me to do,” he asks gently.

Destiny gestures at the pods.

“You have to remove the bodies and test the pods.”

He nods.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says. “I know how much they meant to you. They should have a proper burial. I have time to get a crate.”

And with that he slowly walks down to one of the storage rooms and removes various spare parts for who-knows-what from the biggest crate he can find, heaves it onto the kino sled and pushes it back to the pods room.

“Open the pods,” he says. The panels slide up to reveal the grotesquely desiccated remains of two humanoid figures.

He’s stunned by their appearance – despite the extended time in the pods he can see immediately that they are identical twins to himself and TJ. He stares at them for a long moment.

Destiny reaches out and touches Verat’s cheek, then Palma’s hand.

“I wish I could help you,” she says quietly, averting her gaze.

“It’s all right,” he assures her and carefully lifts Verat’s body out of the pod. It weighs hardly anything at all, and Everett moves slowly so as to not damage the frail mummy-like remains, placing them into the crate, then laying Palma down next to him.

Destiny nods at him and he closes the lid.

“I’d better put them into an airlock and vent it, so they can be preserved until we come out of stasis.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The crate isn’t all that much heavier with the two bodies in them, and he pushes the sled to the nearest air lock.

“They’re your people, Destiny. They shouldn’t be buried on some nameless planet. Maybe you want to pick a star when we get out of the pods, and we can send them there.”

Destiny nods. “Yes. I would like that.”

“All right, then.”

He walks back to the pods, and suddenly he’s hesitant to step into the cryo chamber himself.

“I got a few hours,” he says. “Let’s go to the Observation Deck.”

“It would be safer for you to enter stasis now.”

“I know. But I can keep you company for a little longer. I promised you as much. Three years is a long time to be alone.”

“Not for me.”

It makes him chuckle. “Of course. You’re wired in with the crew. Do they know you’re here, as an individual?”

“Only TJ does. Nobody else knows.”

He sits down on one of the couches.

“You should introduce yourself. I’m sure they’d like to get to know you.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps they would be fearful of my presence.”

“It is a little freaky, I’ll hand you that…”

“Everett?”

“Mmhmm?”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you ask me to meet you in St. Louis? My records indicate it is a city on your home planet.”

“You know of St. Louis?”

“Doctor Franklin was born there.”

“Ah. Well, it doesn’t really mean anything. It just popped into my head then. Kind of like ‘See you later.’ It’s from an old song where the verses are written in limerick form.”

“I see.”

And he sings it for her. “ _Meet me in St. Louis, Louis, meet me at the Fair_ …”

“It is a lovely song,” she says. “Thank you for sharing that. You have a nice voice.”

He smiles at her.

“What will happen to you now? You’ve blown your cover. We know you’ve lied and changed records to bring two blind passengers on board.”

“As you said, I am what I was programmed to be.”

“Well, I was wrong about that. Don’t be so modest, Destiny. You’re a person now. Obviously you can feel like we can, and you have many of our vices and weaknesses. You need to grow up and become who you really are. Who you want to be.”

She’s silent for some time.

“I suppose I could work on that while you are asleep.”

He nods. “And then what? Will I see you again?”

“Will you want to see me again?”

“Yes, of course. You are a member of my crew. And I think we can work together again in the future.”

“Will you be my friend?”

He reaches out for her.

“I already am.”

And he can feel her hand even through the material of his glove.

 

**oOo**

He has cleaned the repaired pod. She shows him how to program a time-delay start of the cryo process and he enters the required codes. Then he quickly takes off the space suit, holding his breath as much as possible, while in between taking gulps of air from the supply nozzle and finally stepping into the pod.

“Good-bye, Destiny. Thanks for everything.”

She smiles.

“Meet me in St. Louis…”

Everett nods, and then the door panel slides shut and the world just falls away.

 

**oOo**

   
 _You cannot describe it, you cannot picture it,_  
 _You cannot admire it, you cannot sense it._  
 _It is your true self, it has nowhere to hide._  
 _When the world is destroyed, it will not be destroyed._

 

**oOo**

It is dark. Warm. The air is fresh. He exhales with a deep sigh, and he realizes he is standing on a beach at night, a sparkling sky full of stars above him. There is a Stargate out there, faintly visible above the dark sea. The water around his feet is refreshingly cool, and the gentle undertow of the waves returning makes his feet sink slowly into the fine sand.

A light to his right attracts his attention.

“Everett.”

It’s TJ.

“I’m here.”

And she walks up to him and steps into his embrace.

“I missed you. I was so afraid I’d lose you. Again.”

“Never.”

She touches his face. “You’re different.”

He nods. “I saw – I’m not sure what it was – the universe… I was there, a part of it. I can’t explain.”

“I know. It changed you. You are so much more than before.”

He revels in her warmth, her peaceful glow, her closeness.

“I guess it makes sense now, you and me. We were together a long time ago already.”

“I have to tell you… I had sex with Destiny.”

She laughs. “So did I. She’s good. She had great teachers.”

“Look.”

And there they are again, out on the water, amidst the breaking surf – a mirror image of themselves.

They watch, as the two lovers turn towards each other and, holding hands, close their eyes. A bright glow develops around them, growing in intensity, enveloping them completely in a brilliant fog of white light.

TJ squeezes his hand, and he feels, more than hears, her gasp of recognition: they are witnessing an ascension. He pulls her into his arms and together they look on as the bright clouds merge into one, float towards the Stargate and disappear in a flash.

Someone else appears in their place – another being, not fully formed yet, still deciding what to be – part TJ, part Everett... As much as Destiny is the child of the late Verat and Palma, Everett knows that she is also their child. She steps out of the Gate and smiles at them.

And then he knows what the message from the edge of the universe means. It has been there all along, they’ve always known it: that only love is eternal. It’s what he’s learned when he suddenly understood in one single moment of perfect clarity.

Everett looks at TJ, and he knows it’s the truth.

 

**oOo**

   
 _Whoever understands the first truth_  
 _Should understand the ultimate truth._  
 _The last and first,_  
 _Are they not the same?_

 

**oOo**

**oOo**

**oOo**

 

Companion Artwork: **Meet me in St. Louis** by Shenandoah Risu

 (click on the image for a full size version)

 

[ ](http://i47.tinypic.com/20atd0l.jpg)

 

Stargate Universe caps by [krissiecaps](http://krissiecaps.livejournal.com/).

Everett Young and Tamara Johansen portraits by [MGM](http://stargate.mgm.com/browse/stills/index.html)

Other Images by [Maxim](http://watikalemon.com/watikalemon/2011/05/09/more-stargate-universe-ladies/33331_sgubabes_0189_123_407lo/), screencaps of NCIS "[A Desperate Man](http://s1011.beta.photobucket.com/user/Shenandoah_Risu/library/Louis%20Ferreira%20in%20NCIS%20-%20A%20Desperate%20Man/#/user/Shenandoah_Risu/library/Louis%20Ferreira%20in%20NCIS%20-%20A%20Desperate%20Man?&_suid=135744513954707006938365735887)" by kimmy4eytj, and Public Domain

 

The Sentient Ship Series is [here](http://shena8.livejournal.com/tag/sentient%20ship).

The Zen Koans can be found [here](http://www.ibiblio.org/zen/cgi-bin/koan-index.pl).

Information about Satori can be found [here](http://www.kirakay.com/satori-groups/8-satori-groups/60-what-is-satori.html).

Listen to the original song here: [Meet me in St. Louis](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YJtBCPAqdQ)

Artwork: http://i47.tinypic.com/20atd0l.jpg

[The Official Louis Ferreira Web Site](http://www.louisferreira.org/)

 

 

 


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